"Mama" is the scariest movie Iâ€™ve ever seen.
Well, itâ€™s really the only scary movie Iâ€™ve ever seen.Â Executive producer Guillermo del Toro lured me in, as "Panâ€™s Labyrinth" is one of my very favorite films.Â Actors Jessica Chastain and Nikolaj Coster-Waldau (well, at least his cheekbones) added incentive to dig deep for some courage to get freaked out.
While it may seem natural that the horror film genre would appeal to what may appear to be my edgier tastes, I am really just a quivering baby when it comes to scary stuff, so I use the wussy technique of avoidance to cope.
I have early memories of my aversion to self-inflicted terror.Â I recall childhood visits to ToysRUs with my mother and brothers in early October.Â I would excitedly rush through the doors anticipating the Barbie aisle, ignorant of the calendar, only to be faced with a wall covered in gory Halloween masks.Â
I can still see the orange floor to ceiling corkboard; stabbed with holes for hooks to hang these twisted latex visages. I would instantly recoil in terror at the very sight of the chilling display, body overcome with shivers and face wet with tears. A magnetic force pulled me into my motherâ€™s body, using her slight frame to shield me from the visual assault of twisted rubber faces.Â
The fright lasted for weeks, with me imagining floppy, gooey, dismembered body parts when I would open drawers and closets in what became to me (for a month or so,) my haunted childhood home.
"Mama" brought that all back. Â Â
Just as if a horror director set up the scene, I made the mistake of watching the film alone, in a dark, empty house late at night. The typical fog-flooded, spooky music filled scenes that elicit the following types of phrases echoed in my head,Â "No â€“ handsome hero â€“ donâ€™t go in the woods alone on a cold night!"Â "No â€“ pretty girl in tight sweater â€“ donâ€™t go into the rundown, cobweb-covered-abandoned Victorian mansion by yourself without a weapon!"Â
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